


the morning rise to break

by bookoftheazuresky



Series: star followed star [5]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Gen, Identity Issues, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, Secrets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-04
Updated: 2019-01-05
Packaged: 2019-10-04 00:22:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17294114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookoftheazuresky/pseuds/bookoftheazuresky
Summary: Deadlock helps in the most unhelpful way possible, and secrets finally see the light of day.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Still not sorry.

The knock sounded on the door of his office only _slightly_ before it was opened.

“Deadlock,” Sunstorm greeted the dark speedster neutrally, grudgingly sparing a processor thread from the Intelligence reports now stacked on his console. He was supposed to have gone off shift ten breems ago, but the Decepticon SIC didn’t get duties that could be put down whenever he liked.

“Sir.” Deadlock’s reply contained a thread of malicious humor that Sunstorm didn’t much like; nor did he like the way the mech settled against the wall just across from his desk like he was going to stay there. But he could say the same for Deadlock’s everything: he got into fights on-base, he ignored or reinterpreted orders that he didn’t like, and he harassed medics.

Annoyed, he slanted golden optics at the lounging speedster. It was not, he noticed, the best facsimile of ease, not with the way Deadlock’s hands flexed as if he wanted to be holding a gun. “If I recall correctly, you are off shift,” Sunstorm said pointedly.

“I’m waiting for you,” Deadlock said, arranging his face and posture into innocence. It wouldn’t have been believable even without the prominent fangs. “Since you’re also supposed to be off right now.”

“I have work to do.” Sunstorm just as pointedly turned his attention back to the reports, though a good chunk of his processing power was devoted to keeping Deadlock squarely within view of his sensors, wings fanning slightly to track movement in the air. Better to be careful.

The speedster ignored the implicit dismissal. “That’s all right,” Deadlock said. “I’ll _wait_.”

The emphasis on the last word made Sunstorm sigh. Make a point and keep Deadlock sitting there while getting nothing done, or gather this up to work on it in quarters later and humor him? The dark speedster was both respected and feared amongst the ranks, so it made more sense to hear him out. Besides, Sunstorm hated wasting time with posturing. Yes, if he was not attentive Deadlock could kill him; no, a fair fight would not end well for Deadlock, could we move _on_.

A push to his pedes and a few impatient motions gathered the pads up to store them in his subspace. “Well?” Sunstorm said, leaning his hip against his desk and crossing his arms over his cockpit.

“You’d think you wanted everyone to hear this,” Deadlock lamented, shaking his head. He keyed open and stepped out of the office door, then paused in the command center. A few mechs from the skeleton night shift glanced at both of them as Sunstorm exited and closed the door behind him, but they went back to their consoles when both high-ranking Decepticons looked in their direction. Deadlock gave Sunstorm an ironic smile, and led the way out of the room, clearly expecting to be followed. Exventing in irritation, Sunstorm did, making sure his plasma sword was easily in reach in his subspace if needed.

The dark speedster took a back route through the base towards the command quarters where they both were placed. “If you are going to try to involve me in treasonous plotting…” Sunstorm muttered, just loud enough for Deadlock to hear, looking at the still and silent halls in the back of the base and taking a firmer grip on the stellar light that gave him his name. Base gossip, thin whispers by the time Sunstorm had been experienced enough to heed it, held that Deadlock was one of Megatron’s favorites of old. And he might not be happy to have been displaced from Megatron’s berth. Sunstorm probably could not convince him that he was _welcome_ to seduce Megatron away from his current favorite, either.

Unfortunate, that. Sunstorm would love to hand over the position to Deadlock or Tarn or _whoever_ , just as long as it wasn’t him.

Deadlock stopped, turned. “Tell me,” he said, voice light and curious and optics malicious, “does he call you Starscream in berth too?”

For a moment, Sunstorm thought Deadlock had slapped him too, the sensation so real that he felt it in his spark. His audials were ringing, his face stinging, the neurocircuits triggering feedback to try and match his expectation.

Reading the truth off his face, the backwards flick of his wings- “Oh, he _does_.” Deadlock laughed. “How depressing. Not that anyone with half a processor can’t tell just by looking at you. I pity Thundercracker and Skywarp.”

“I do hope,” Sunstorm gritted out, forcing control-control-control over the wild beat of outrage and shame in his spark and the radiation warning in his HUD, “that this isn’t your idea of a prelude to asking a favor.”

“Ha.” Deadlock produced a datachip from his subspace, innocent between his claws. “No, I’m doing you one. Or Thundercracker, actually, but it’s on your behalf. Shockwave’s notes from your construction.” He smiled, mouth canting cruelly. “It’s quite a read. I got them from an MTO medic in Ol’ Shocky’s labs a while ago. Just in case.”

“In case of what?” Sunstorm lifted his wings aggressively. He was _not_ Deadlock’s prey. And he couldn’t think of what would be so interesting in his original designs, unless you were maybe an Autobot engineer. Besides, Shockwave had badly miscalculated his development as an outlier, and Sunstorm had made a point of never going back to him when he needed upgrades. Whatever his original specs were, they were badly out of date at best.

“Everybody’s been _so_ careful with you, haven’t they? Can’t destabilize the Decepticon leadership _again_. Gotta pretend Megatron’s been playing with a full deck. Gotta keep you in the dark.” Deadlock moved closer, unthreatening except for his deadly economy of motion. And his _tone_ : a cynical, spiteful thing, a disappointment long buried and now let loose. “I didn’t join the Decepticons to keep people blind.”

Abruptly, his voice changed again, back to his original venomous amusement. “Besides, I just got assigned to be deployed with Turmoil. I’m a dead mech walking anyway. I’d tell you to keep in mind how fickle Megatron’s favor is, but I’m pretty sure that’s not gonna be _your_ problem.”

He offered the datachip with a blade of a smile. It belatedly occurred to the seeker that his cruelty was directed inwards as much as out.


	2. Chapter 2

“Thundercracker.” Was that his voice, so remote and seemingly calm? It might be- Sunstorm felt like his chassis had been opened to space, like cold was eating its way into his sparkchamber. This was in direct opposition to the anomalous radiation warning flickering erratically at the edge of his HUD, never disappearing for more than a few seconds at a time.

The blue seeker must have seen something in his face worthy of concern, because he set down his cube next to the additives on the slightly rickety table that all Air Force command suites seemed to be equipped with. “What’s wrong?” He frowned a bit and continued, “You’re really late today.”

Skywarp poked his head out of his room, probably attracted by the noise. “Oh, hey, you’re back. Do you think you can authorize some extra flight time for me? I’m going crazy.”

Normality beckoned temptingly for a moment, swaying him into Thundercracker’s concerned hands. He could answer Skywarp and pretend that today never happened, that everything was the same as ever. It took effort to force himself to step back. “Deadlock came to see me today.”

“Okay,” Thundercracker said patiently, still obviously concerned.

“Who did he murder?” Skywarp asked cynically.

The question was almost too funny for words- Sunstorm would have preferred being murdered. “He told me he was doing you a favor, Thundercracker. A favor you had requested on my behalf.” Thundercracker stiffened, wings rising with alarm now. Skywarp flicked his optics between them warily. Sunstorm pulled the datapad he’d plugged the chip into and shoved it at Thundercracker’s cockpit. “Straight from one of Shockwave’s medics, apparently.”

Thundercracker caught the pad rather than let it drop, but tossed it at the table after a cursory glance. It was clear that Sunstorm was his main concern. Previously that would have made Sunstorm _happy_. Now he just felt cold and stupid and as alone as if he was flying in space.

“Sunstorm,” Thundercracker said, voice low and soothing, reaching out again. Sunstorm took another step back out of his reach. Rather than continue pursuing him, Thundercracker angled his wings low and submissively but kept his hands outstretched. “Whatever you’re thinking-“

“What,” Sunstorm interrupted, too raw to hear the rest, “that I’ve always known I was a replacement, I just never thought it was quite so _literal_?”

“Oh slag,” Skywarp said, probably only now figuring out what Sunstorm was talking about. The dark seeker tucked his wings when Substorm looked at him- Sunstorm had no idea what his expression was, but it must have been something to produce that reaction.

“Though I have to say I’m impressed Skywarp kept quiet about it this whole time.” Probably because he never talked about anything having to do with his old trineleader. It had never stood out as odd, because _no one_ talked about Starscream to him.

“We couldn’t tell you,” Thundercracker said. His voice was no longer quite so even, hands turning upwards as if beseeching understanding. “We didn’t even have proof, just suspicions. And then-“

“You were my trineleader! I trust-“ Sunstorm cut himself off savagely, shook his head. “What was it, picking up where you left off was more palatable? Or was it that you could train up a better version if I didn’t know?”

“Because you wouldn’t have believed!” Thundercracker half-yelled, composure abandoned. “Primus, when you never even believed me when I told you you’d gotten everything right, not when _Megatron_ ,” the word was full of raw hatred, “would tell you your performance was disappointing! How could I tell you _this?_ ”

Sunstorm shuddered from wing to pede, the yawning chasm that he wasn’t looking at trying to force its way to the forefront. “You let-“ he tried, “you let-“

“Yeah,” Thundercracker said, so quietly. “I did. You trusted me and I-“ he curled inwards, no longer reaching. “You were a newspark and I never even told you what he was doing to you was _wrong._ ” His vocalizer turned the last word half to static.

Another shiver wracked Sunstorm’s frame, hard enough to rattle his plating. _Wrong_. So trivial a word, to encompass such a thing. _Wrong._ His whole functioning summed up in a single concept. A clone. A replacement. A toy, a prop, a doll. _Wrong._

“Please.” Thundercracker was weeping. Skywarp was frozen, wings back and low with distress. “Please, just…”

Sunstorm shook his head, took another step back, then another. Until his wings brushed the door. The second it opened, he was gone.

~

_You were my trineleader! I trusted you._

_Failed another one, Thundercracker?_ The inner voice sounded just like Starscream, silky-cruel and laughing with it. He knew just how the tricolor seeker had sounded when proven right, a few hundred thousand years hadn’t wiped it from his memory files.

“Should I…” Skywarp asked from behind him, his voice small.

Thundercracker shook his head, wiping uselessly at the pink cleaning fluid on his face. He’d known it was wrong the entire time, he just hadn’t known what else to _do_. How many Decepticons had told Megatron no and made it stick? The only one who Thundercracker could think of was Deathsaurus; being a sane mech, he’d kicked off to the Rim before he’d said it. And Deathsaurus didn’t have something that Megatron wanted like he wanted Sunstorm.

He’d been incapable of protecting the young seeker from the very beginning. Just as much as when he’d been a newbuild and a high-caste mech had bought one of his batch siblings for a berthwarmer while the overseers looked the other way. Why, thought Thundercracker with drowning despair, had they even bothered with this war if things were just going to end up exactly the same?

“Maybe I should go tell Deadlock what I think of his favor,” Skywarp growled.

Thundercracker agreed with the sentiment, but said, “Don’t make this worse.”

“How can I make this _worse_?”

Silence reigned after Skywarp’s frustrated outburst.

“I wish Star was alive,” the dark seeker said. “He’d know what to do.”

Thundercracker huffed his half-clogged vents. “Because he _did it_. He fought Megatron and went to his berth and kept us safe under his wings so we didn’t have to see the choices he made. And neither of us did a slagging thing for him, so now he’s _dead._ ”

Skywarp made a kicked-turbofox noise and retreated. His door shut sharply. Thundercracker didn’t feel any better, but he didn’t deserve to feel better.

Eventually, his attention wandered back to the datapad discarded on the table along with his evening rations. He walked over to it, feeling numb. He’d let it be known that he was looking for this a long time ago- how long had Deadlock kept it, looking for leverage? Well, it was here now, to answer all the questions he was afraid to ask. Should he even look at it, now? By right, it belonged to the seeker who’d shoved it at him, golden optics glittering with betrayal.

Coward, Thundercracker told himself tiredly. Coward, coward, coward. If Sunstorm has to bear it, so do you.

Still, it took an effort to pick it up.


End file.
